


These Walls

by theresnomeaning



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, Psychological Trauma, Snarry-A-Thon16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 08:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6897733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theresnomeaning/pseuds/theresnomeaning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During self imposed isolation, Harry is visited by the least expected person - a Severus Snape whose goals are unclear and suspicious. Besides having to figure out the Slytherin, Harry needs to battle with his crumbling house and a semi-reformed Kreacher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Walls

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Aquinasprime for the beta and the mods for the patience and for organizing this amazing fest.

**Harry**  
Harry finished washing the dishes and sat in his favourite armchair in the living room. Through the window of his cottage he could see that a storm was coming, one that made it seem as though it was going to rain forever. He loved the rain, it felt as if the water could wash his soul, cleaning the stains - at least temporarily.

Eyes beginning to close of their own accord, Harry adjusted himself in the armchair to be in a comfortable position to take a nap. One would say that he didn't do anything useful, and although that might very well be true, he loved his afternoon naps anyway, specially because he rarely had dreams - contrary to when he slept at night.

When Harry awoke, it was because of an insistent knock on his door. Before going to answer, he summoned his wand. His house was heavily warded, with some layers of spells to keep him hidden. Though it wasn't something as powerful as a _Fidelius_ , his friends would have a hard time finding him there. He prayed mentally that it was a stranger knocking on his door - a stranger who wasn't out for his blood, that is.

A sudden, loud thunderclap made startled Harry, and he took some moments to calm his accelerated heart. His hand was gripping the wand so tightly that the knuckles of his fingers were white, and he forced himself to loose the grip a little. He didn't have any reason to be so nervous... Lady Luck was always on his side, after all.

Harry opened the door quickly, and pointed his wand at the person waiting for him before he could even see who it was.

"I see that at least you've learnt something, Potter," drawled a stern voice that chilled Harry. "But I assure you that I wish no harm to you, even if your feeble mind can't be wrapped around that fact."

"Snape!"

"Congratulations, Potter, living like a hermit for three years did not dull your perceptions more than I knew them to be dulled."

Harry was gaping like a fish - like an imbecilic fish. Snape was standing on his door, strong, and actually looking fine. He was dressed in black trousers and a grey shirt, and even without his robes, looking as imposing as he ever had. If Harry closed his eyes, he was sure that he would see Snape slumped on the floor, with blood all over him... so he chose to stay with eyes wide open.

"Put that thing away," Snape said, actually slapping Harry's hand that still held the wand in front of him. "Are you going to invite me in or are you waiting for a lightning bolt to hit my head? I am sure you would find it amusing if a _lightning bolt_ of all things were to kill me."

This person, this... Snape actually seemed to be joking, but Harry couldn't be sure, not with Snape. Or perhaps he was being serious, and believed that Harry did want him dead, Harry thought, horrified.

Right after the end of the war Harry told the Aurors, Minerva and Kingsley about Snape's role in the war, and that he'd been Dumbledore's man all along. The man had then been taken to St. Mungo's, but all the healers did not believe he would make it. Nagini's attack had been vicious; her venom wreaked havoc in Snape's body, and there was not telling if the loss of blood hadn't caused lasting effects...

Well, apparently Snape had overcome that, and mostly unscathed, Harry added, noticing that there weren't even scars around his neck - or maybe that fact was due to Snape being a Potions master. He decided that he would ask about that later, if there was time for that. Right now, Harry had more pressing questions.

"Was it Ron or Hermione who sent you here?" Harry asked.

Snape looked at Harry and scowled.

"Do you really think that I would allow someone like that redhead baboon or the know-it-all to order me to come here and rescue their precious Harry Potter?" He voiced the question as though Harry had the mental capacity of a goat - maybe Snape did believe that. When Harry didn't reply, Snape went on. "I came here to get my memories back."

Oh.

 _Oh._  
  
Harry suddenly felt as if he wanted to run. He most certainly didn't want to give Snape the memories. Although the righteous side of Harry told himself that it was what he should do, his selfish side was screaming, "Those are the only few memories that you have from your mother where she isn't begging for your life."

Something must have shown on his face, because Snape was eyeing him suspiciously. "Don't tell me that you don't have them, Potter," he growled menacingly. "Those were my memories, you didn't have the ri-"

"Calm down, you git!" Harry interrupted Snape's rant. "I have your memories... they are safe."

"I want them."

Harry swallowed dryly. How could he convince Snape to let him keep the memories? Snape, who had never liked him, who had loved his mother...

"Why do you want them? You gave me them - you can't get back something you gave, that's wrong!" and not elegant at all, he added mentally in a voice that sounded a lot like Aunt Petunia's.

"I didn't give them to you, Potter. I _used_ the only way I had to communicate with you, certainly you understand that? Did you think it was a gift?" he finished, mocking.

"They are the only memories I have of her... except for the one where she begs Voldemort not to kill me."

Something flashed in Snape's eyes, but before Harry could distinguish it was gone, but his expression was softer than before. He cocked his head to the side and seemed to analyze Harry, then he looked around and wrinkled his nose in what seemed to be disgust.

"How can you live in this filth, Potter?"

Harry opened his mouth, outrage beginning to burn inside him, but then he snapped his mouth shut. Perhaps his house _was_ a bit dirty...

"If you want to keep the memories you will at least clean your house, Potter. Do not pretend to cherish your mother's memories so much if you are going to just waste away and tarnish her sacrifice."

"You don't have any right to come here and interfere in the way I live!"

Snape raised an eyebrow, extended his hand and summoned an empty bottle of vodka and some cans of beer.

"Do you call this living? And let's not forget that Lily wasn't the only one who made sacrifices to keep you alive. I worked hard to save your hide several times, did you really think that I would just stay put and watch you destroy yourself like this?"

What the fuck? Just because he drank a bit - okay, maybe more than a bit - it didn't mean that he wanted to destroy himself! And besides, it wasn't Snape's business; Harry had never asked the man to save him.

"I am not trying to destroy myself..." Harry protested.

"You are, Potter. Maybe you don't even know it consciously, but you are. And now you are going to stop feeling sorry for yourself and will start to clean your house, and do something useful with your time. Or else I will take my memories back whether you want or not and disappear."

~~~

Harry fumed as he manually grabbed the empty bottles and cans and stuffed them inside a plastic bag. Sure, he was a wizard and could just use cleaning charms, but growing up in the Muggle world made him forget that magic could be used for such tasks, or that he could just tell Kreacher to clean for him when he came back. Besides, he needed something to vent his anger, and the trash spread all over the place looked like a good recipient for his feelings.

How dare Snape just come and lord over him? It was such a low blow to use his mother's memories to have an opportunity to make Harry do what he wanted! It felt like a detention, and Harry hated it.

Perhaps he should just pack his things and find another place to live... but then Snape would find him again - of that Harry had no doubts.

Snape had left after giving Harry an ultimatum, but not without promising that he would come back to see Harry's 'progress.'

After the war, while Snape was in the hospital, Harry had often wondered how much of the Slytherin's behaviour was due to his spying. Sometimes he wanted to believe that Snape's hatred for him was just an act, because it was so unfair, and so contradictory given his feelings for Harry's mother. However, Harry knew that thinking like that was just trying to fool himself, but he came to admire the man regardless. Independent of his motivation, the man had done what was right, and suffered because of that.

But Harry had not dwelled much on that in those months. No, he had had much more important things to worry about. Like thinking about being a father figure for his godson, wondering if he should or not resume his relationship with Ginny, and, of course, the death threats he received.

In the end, everything went wrong, so very wrong... that he chose to live in isolation. Since he'd come to live in the cottage Harry felt only numbness. He sometimes wanted to believe that everything that had happened wasn't real. The first spark of a different emotion just happened during and after Snape's visit. Harry felt almost glad for that.

~~~

True to his word, Snape came back a week later. Instead of knocking on the door, however, he just let himself in and sat in a conjured stool in front of Harry's armchair, where he was, again, napping.

Harry woke up with Snape's kick on his shin.

"What the fuck?" Harry said as he woke up, disoriented. "What are you doing here?"

"I think that would be obvious - even to you."

"Snape, you are in my home, so you should respect me." Harry felt a bit ridiculous saying that, because Snape didn't seem to be the kind of person who would respect someone just because he was in their home.

"You don't respect yourself, Potter," Snape said with a snort.

"I don't know whatever gave you that impression, and besides, it is not as if you care."

Snape pursed his lips and made a dramatic gesture of looking around. "I see that you at least cleaned the cottage..."

Harry huffed. "Will you let me keep the memories now?" Harry's stomach chose exactly that moment to grumble loudly, and Snape looked strangely at him, as though analyzing Harry.

Moving to kitchen, Harry knew that Snape was following him silently. He opened the fridge and found the rest of the chicken breast he'd done for lunch, and the broccoli salad and a medium portion of rice. It was enough for two, and Harry wondered if he should offer a meal to someone who was insulting him in his own home.

"Do you want to eat?" Harry asked as he took the bowls filled with food out and put them on the table. He turned briefly to see Snape with a curious expression, as though Harry's offering was something absurd, but then he just nodded stiffly.

He filled two plates with food and put them one of them in the microwave. The device was identical to the one that there was in his aunt's house, only newer. The silence was strange and annoying, so Harry decided to try some small talk with Snape.

"So... what are you doing now, do you still teach at Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

"Of course not. I hated teaching, and only did that to keep my place with the Dark Lord; now I work as a Potions consultant for the DMLE."

"Oh. That's nice. Bet you love to show off how much you know about potions to the Aurors..."

"They are a bunch of idiots," Snape muttered. "Why do you that, Potter?" he asked, eyeing the microwave.

"Oh... this is a Muggle device called a microwave, I use it for-"

"Potter, I know what a microwave is. What I ask is why don't you use a warming charm on your food. Are you a wizard or not?"

"I don't like to depend on magic for everything," Harry said. "I like to do some things like I learned them... before," and Kreacher frequently argued with Harry because of that.

"I see."

The microwave beeped, and Harry took the plate out and handed it to the other man. Snape sniffed the food and Harry had to bite his cheek to stop himself from laughing.

"I didn't know you could cook," he said and put the plate on the table. As Harry waited for his meal to be heated, he sat in a chair in front of Snape.

"I learnt how to cook very early. I used to fix breakfast for my relatives. Aunt Petunia taught me a lot of things... not that she would ever admit that, but I think she found my food better than hers." he finished the sentence actually grinning.

"Well, perhaps you should thank Petunia," Snape said and Harry dropped his fork... from what he'd understood from the memories, the man did not get on well with his aunt. "Lily couldn't cook to save her own life - believe me, I would know. And I don't think your father would do such a... minor, simple task; not that I think anything good would be made by his hands, of course."

Harry was actually gaping. Snape had willingly given him some information about his mother. Right, he had also insulted his father, but that didn't matter much, because now he knew one more - albeit small - thing about her. He savoured that new knowledge. Perhaps Harry should do something so that Snape kept coming... perhaps they could even talk civilly, like they were now, more. And then Harry would get to ask more things about his mother.

They ate in silence after that, and Harry's eyes sometimes lingered on Snape's pale neck. He even wondered if there was a glamour there to hide scars. There was no way that Nagini's fangs wouldn't leave scars.

"Potter why are you staring at my neck?" Harry averted his eyes and looked at his plate, but he could feel Snape's glare on him. "Well?"

"I was just wondering why there aren't... scars," he answered, finally looking at Snape again. "I mean, not that I wanted you to have the scars - I just expected that Nagini's attack would leave scars."

Snape frowned, and when it seemed that he wouldn't say anything, he explained. "Despite Nagini's nature, and the darkest of magic that she carried within, the wounds were not caused by Dark Magic, so it was possible to use a potion to make the scars fade."

Harry tried to ignore the comment about Nagini's nature, as he avoided thinking about Horcruxes. He didn't like to remember that he, too, had been one. It always made him feel horrible.

"That's nice. You are actually looking better than when you were a teacher," he blurted and - apparently - horrified Snape. Harry himself didn't know why he'd said that.

Deciding that it was better to keep his mouth shut, Harry finished his meal in silence, but he didn't stop feeling awkward. He hadn't meant that Snape looked good - because honestly, Snape was ugly as sin - it was just that, well, he didn't look like he didn't eat or had never seen the sun as he used to at Hogwarts.  
  
When they both had finished, Harry stood up and carried the dishes to the sink, glad that apparently Snape had decided to ignore the mortifying moment that Harry had starred before.

"What do you do here all day, Potter?"

Snape's question caught him off guard, thought it shouldn't have, not with Harry knowing the man as he did. For some reason, Harry felt ashamed of saying that he did virtually nothing useful all day. Snape would not understand his reasons for that.

"I read, sometimes I listen to some music..."

"Oh, I see. It was my understanding that you should have become an Auror, just like Mr. Weasley," Snape said and Harry had to conceal a wince, remembering those times when he still dreamed of becoming an Auror, saving people and had his whole life planned. Get married, have four or five children... but everything had been taken from him after Molly's death.

"It wouldn't have worked," Harry said quietly. "You must understand that. I didn't really need the money - between what my parents and Sirius left me I have enough money to live a simple life like the one I have here."

"I do not understand, no..." Snape said almost softly. "But I had never taken you for a coward, Mr. Potter. Annoying, arrogant, brainless, inconsequent, irresponsible, bigoted, lazy, and a few more things, yes, but never a coward." he added in a scathing tone that left Harry wondering if beneath the insults there was also a bit of praise.

~~~

It was bloody frustrating, Harry thought as he cast for the thousandth time a spell meant to mend the cracks on the wall. Sure, it wasn't a specific spell for that, but a general mending charm should have worked on that.

It was also odd. He had slept last night and woke up to find a great crack on the wall of his living room, one that started near the floor and went up for about Harry's height.

At times like that he wished he could just owl Hermione and ask for help. Even if she didn't know how to mend walls, she would search for ways to do it and be happy just because she was learning something. But that wasn't the case, he couldn't owl her out of the blue, asking for help, when their last meeting had been so horrible.

 _Harry leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor, barely supporting his weight. He had no more tears to cry, and the alcohol in his system didn't allow him to mourn properly. He was being a coward, Harry knew that, and it irked him; but he also felt like he deserved to numb some of his pain, to drown his sorrows in a chemically induced, temporary relief._  
  
_He couldn't forget Arthur's face, completely shocked, and in so much pain that it was almost palpable. And then there were the other Weasleys. Charlie and Bill had lost it, and for the one moment Harry had seen their faces filled with thirst for revenge, he knew that something irreparable had happened. George was the worst of all, though, not being anywhere near a recovery after Fred's death to suffer such a blow now. Ginny looked utterly lost. Percy was absent, and maybe that was a good thing, because he would have been brave enough to say the truth into Harry's face._  
  
_And Ron... Ron had just hugged Harry tightly as though he knew what his friend was thinking. Ron had just lost his mother and was trying to comfort Harry. Something inside Harry's mind told him that soon Ron would be blaming, accusing him, as he'd done before._  
  
_And then, after Molly's funeral, Harry had gone to a dingy Muggle pub and drunk as he'd never done before. Sure, since the end of the war he'd found questionable methods to deal with his issues, including alcohol, but he'd never done it as though he wanted to poison his liver._  
  
_He never heard the Floo flare, and only noticed Hermione was there when she knelt on the floor to look at him._  
  
_"Harry," she said hesitantly. "I can't understand why you are doing this. It wasn't your fault - nobody blames you."_  
  
_"Then they are all fools!"_  
  
_"They're not. You can't keep trying to destroy yourself..."_  
  
_"You don't really have a say in that, Hermione," he snapped._  
  
_"I worry about you, I have that right. I am your friend. We lived through a lot together."_  
  
_"You know what?" Harry said as he pushed her hand away from his shoulder. "I didn't ask anyone to help me during the war. You all did it because you wanted... I bet you loved to earn your place in this world just because you were the friend of the boy who lived."_  
  
_He didn't know where that had come from, but he was aware that it was an unforgivable thing to say, and he knew that it was unfair. God, what had possessed him to say something as filthy as that?_  
  
So, yes, asking for Hermione's help was out of the question. Maybe Snape would know how to help. Then he thought about that again, trying to clear his head, because there was no way in hell that he was actually looking forward the git's visit, even if Snape wasn't being a bastard the whole time like his usual self.

Harry wondered if that crack on the wall was dangerous, and if the ceiling would fall on his head. Maybe he should sleep somewhere else.

He banished an empty can of beer and opened another. Despite everything, he was actually feeling more cheerful than in ages, and wasn't all that keen on having a hangover, deciding to drink only milder things for the day.

Kreacher, who was the only one who knew where Harry lived - besides Snape now, of course - chose that moment to arrive, carrying several packs of groceries and mumbling quietly and grumpily to himself. Harry was glad that he'd decided to keep Kreacher after leaving the Wizarding world. That way, he didn't have the need to leave his home for anything. It made unpleasant encounters way less probable.

"Thank,s Kreacher," he said and began to check the packages.

"I told Master he couldn't thank Kreacher. Kreacher's doing his job serving Master that finished what dear Master Regulus began."

Harry rolled his eyes. He'd actually, despite everything, grown fond of the old house-elf. Kreacher had mellowed a lot after the war, and after Harry destroyed the locket, finishing the task that Regulus Black had died for. Sometimes he reminded Harry of Dobby, whom he missed dearly. Still, the house-elf only came once or twice in a month to bring food and clean the place, and that was enough company for Harry.

~~~

The next day Harry again fought with the cracks on the wall. The bloody things were actually growing to the point of really concerning him. Even though his life was morose, frequently not exciting, he loved being alive very much.

"This is useless," he murmured.

"Filthy Muggles can't build good houses. Grimmauld Place has been the home of generations of Blacks and Kreacher's never seen a crack on the walls," said the house-elf. For all that he had benefited from his old mistress's less frequent presence, Kreacher still thought that Muggles were inferior, and Harry had given up on changing that. At least he didn't speak like that much nowadays. "Muggles deceived my poor master."

"Kreacher, look, nobody deceived me," Harry said. "The house was perfectly fine when I bought it, these problems happen with time."

The elf shook his head and looked around. "Master cleaned the house when Kreacher was out visiting Mistress; Master is not to do Kreacher's job." Harry was relieved at the change in subject - he hated when Kreacher started to call him 'his poor master', but knew that now they would argue about the fact that Harry had cleaned the house.

And indeed, they were on that for fifteen minutes, and were only saved by a knock on the door. Harry suspected who it was and, to appease the elf, ordered him to answer the door.

"I wasn't aware that you still had this elf, Potter. Pray tell, why didn't he open the door the last time I was here?"

"Kreacher stays partly here and partly at Grimmauld Place. He comes every month to bring me groceries and clean the house."

"Merlin spare us your logic, Potter. This explains why your house was in such atrocious condition before. You have an elf and let him... fool around. Do you really think it is wise to let him have contact with Walburga Black's portrait?"

Harry shrugged. "I can't make him leave the house where he lived and worked for his whole life," Snape looked rather horrified at that, as though he didn't understand why Harry would be so lenient with the creature. "And, besides, now he knows to respect everyone - he is better now, aren't you Kreacher?"

"Kreacher obeys his half-blood master, yes, much better master than Mistress's useless son, so Kreacher follows Master's orders."

Snape's lips almost quirked in a smirk at the insult to Sirius. In the past Harry would have wanted to wipe away that smirk from the man's face, but, well... even if Snape was immature enough to still hold that grudge, it was somewhat justifiable. Harry understood that while Sirius had been very nice to him, as a teen he'd been a jerk to Snape.

Harry thought about his own past and knew that he would never like, say, Draco Malfoy and his friends, even though the Slytherin had proved to be not a complete nasty, evil person when the time came. And at least Harry had never been alone against Malfoy, he'd had friends, and they'd given back as good as they'd got. Sure, Harry would never treat Malfoy's children the way Snape had treated him, but he understood that, as surreal as it seemed, the man probably had been molded to express all that was shown to him, and from what Harry knew, very few showed him affection, compassion and love.

It was something that made Harry proud of himself, that, as the years passed, he'd come to understand other people's perspectives. Sometimes anxiety, loneliness and desperation made people do very regrettable things, made them _be_ not the most enchanting of human beings. He remembered some things he did during the war, such as using a _Cruciatus_ on Amycus Carrow - wasn't that totally horrible? But, at the time, he'd thought it was acceptable.

"Did you miss your classes on house-holding Charms, Potter?" Snape asked. "You would have been taught spells to fix these cracks. From what I know, your Charms skills were somewhat better than those you showed in Potions."

"You have no right to say that - you know very well why I was so bad in your classes!" Harry said irritably. "You singled me out and I couldn't concentrate."

"Please, spare me this. Would you say that I treated Miss Granger fairly?" Snape asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No! You were horrible to her as you were horrible to everyone else who wasn't a bloody Slytherin."

"Then there you see, Potter. Miss Granger learned a lot in my classes... and what was the name of that boy who stalked you?" Snape paused, apparently trying to remember he name. "Ah, yes, Mr. Creevey - he always managed to produce acceptable potions in my classes. That friend of yours, the Ravenclaw that spewed more insanities than Trelawney, Miss Lovegood, was rather gifted in Potions." Eyeing Harry seriously, he asked one last question. "Do you think that they - Harry Potter's friends - were treated with something other than contempt?

"Now, Potter, I know your Gryffindor sentimentality must be reveling in this little heart-to-heart," Snape practically sneered the words. "But I don't believe your house is very safe right now..."

Oh, yeah. The cracks on the wall; that was where the whole conversation had started.

"I don't know what else to do about these cracks," Harry said, waving at the cracks on the wall, even while half of his mind was wondering if perhaps Snape had used Legilimency on him, and knowing that he was being suspicious, changed the subject.

Snape looked at the wall as though it was the most interesting potion in the world.

"When did it begin?" he asked.

"Just yesterday, and I have no clue about why. The house is relatively new, and the walls seemed perfect until yesterday, and now I have this mess. Do you think it isn't safe to remain here?"

"It depends. The cracks could mean damage to the painting, which is not particularly worrisome. However, they could also mean a damage to the structure of the building - which is very dangerous, of course..."

"Of course," Harry agreed, wishing that Snape could at least pretend that he didn't think he was a complete idiot.

"Maybe you should let me try some spells to repair the damage," the older wizard suggested.

"Alright... but I already told you that I've tried various spells..."

"Potter, I, for the first time in my life, am not suggesting that you are incompetent. I merely want to try - maybe I will use a spell that you have no knowledge of."

"I said it was alright, didn't I?" Harry asked, exasperated. "Go on and try, it's not as though your trying will make it any worse."

But Snape's attempts to fix the walls didn't work either, and at the end the man had even looked satisfied that Harry had to live in place that could fall in over his head, which infuriated Harry and made him suspicious.

"Well, Potter," Snape said before leaving "I will look for a solution for your house. In the meantime, I would suggest you to find another place to live temporarily."

Harry knew that that was the most logical decision, but in the end he couldn't make himself leave the house. Despite everything, he considered the place his home, had considered it so for some time now. Besides, maybe Snape wanted him to leave the house - maybe Snape had put those cracks on the wall... only a nefarious plan could explain the man's behavior _and_ the fact that Harry's house had begun to practically deconstruct.

However, something didn't make sense. Despite everything, Snape had always worked for Harry's welfare. It seemed strange that he would want to hurt Harry like that. Especially, if it were to be believed that he didn't hate Harry, not any more, at least.

~~~

On of those days, Harry woke up in the middle of the night after a rather strange dream. He'd dreamed about Snape. Nothing had really happened in the dream, in which Snape had been brewing a potion, and looking very concentrated, while Harry kept his distance and only watched - and admired - the movements of the Potions master's hands.

It was an odd dream, of course, but not an unexpected one. Hermione had mentioned once that Harry had been infatuated with the Half-Blood Prince. One day, after the war, he and Ginny, who were trying to resume their relationship, got incredibly drunk and somehow ended up in bed with a third person, a male third person. From what he remembered from the experience, he'd liked it, a lot. Maybe as much as he'd liked to be with Ginny - maybe even more.

It wasn't all that unexpected that Harry would feel attracted to the first man - first person, really - to appear in his house in a long time. Especially if said man was the Half-Blood Prince. Especially if said man was Snape, whom Harry had come to admire so much after the war, despite his suspicions and all.

Harry was sure that such admiration could easily grow into something more if only he applied himself to that.

Sure, sometimes Harry felt suspicious about the man, despite the fact that Snape had always protected him. Perhaps he was being just paranoid. But paranoid or not, Harry could not let that attraction grow. Even if Snape were being civil to him without a selfish reason, he would never welcome Harry's affection.

~~~

Snape didn't return for a week, and the cracks on the walls only grew worse during those days.

Maybe it wasn't Snape who was causing them.

One of those days, Harry had woken up only to find his home flooding with water. Water everywhere and a very distressed Kreacher trying to take the water out. The elf was mumbling something about Harry having been fooled - again.

Harry rose from the bed and began to walk toward the source of the flooding - it looked as if the water was coming from the bathroom.

"Shit..." he murmured. "This house must be fucking trying to kill me." Remembering a charm to dry surfaces that he'd seen while looking for spells to fix the walls, he took his wand and, using more than necessary power, cast the spell. The water disappeared instantly, but he still could hear the sound of the leaking coming from the bathroom.

First, the cracks on the walls. Now that.

Harry went to the bathroom to inspect the damage. There was a large crack on the pipe of the sink, and water was running freely.

"Poor Master was fooled. The Muggles sold him a bad house..."

"Kreacher, stop it." The elf shouldn't even be there - he should be at Grimmauld Place! Harry really wasn't in the mood to listen to the elf today.

The fact that his house was slowly - or not so slowly - falling apart saddened Harry. Maybe he should call for professional help... perhaps Snape would be able to do something about that.

Stopping that train of thought, Harry reminded himself that he didn't really know a thing about the reason for Snape's visiting, and that he needed to stop counting on the man to return - one day he might not, and Harry didn't want to be disappointed.

His dreams did nothing to make things easy for Harry. They continued to star Snape. Usually they were just like that first one - with Harry watching the Potions master from afar.

Maybe it was meant to be a metaphor, Harry mused and concluded that he had a rather depressing - although realistic - subconscious.

~~~

On the next day Harry woke up just to find Snape sitting on his kitchen.

"Potter, why the hell do you continue to live in this house?"

No good morning, no "did you sleep well?" No, Snape liked to start his days with insults. Or maybe not start his days, as Harry noticed upon checking the clock on the kitchen wall. It was already past noon.

"I shouldn't just abandon my home at the first sign of problems, Snape," Harry said, annoyed, but then softened his voice. "This house is really important to me. I can't leave. I will fix the problems..."

"But of course you would feel attached to a bloody house."

For some reason, that comment made Harry very nervous. He loved that house, it meant a lot to him. Snape didn't have the right to say things like that.

"You know nothing, Snape..."

"I know nothing, Potter? Are you sure of that?" Snape asked, standing. "Then tell me, why did you come here - why did you decide to isolate yourself here? Why didn't you marry the Weasley girl and have dozens of annoying brats?"

Snape's mention of Ginny - of any Weasley, really - made Harry murderous.

"Shut up!" Harry screamed. "Why do you have to be _that_ cruel, Snape?"

"Oh, Potter, just because I don't agree with your apparent need to become a hermit it doesn't mean that I am cruel - no more than my usual, that is, but you should be used to that by now."

"How can you mention the Weasleys to me?" Harry asked, his voice breaking with some emotion - maybe sadness, maybe rage, or both. "You know very - everybody knows - that I can't be happy near any of the Weasleys..."

"What do you mean, Potter?" Snape asked, for the first time looking genuinely curious. "They adore you, and you love them."

Harry realized, then, that maybe Snape didn't really know about what happened. He didn't seem the kind of person who would be interested in reading the _Daily Prophet_... but Snape had said he was working for the DMLE, there was no way that he hadn't known...

Choosing to believe that Snape was oblivious, and not being extremely cruel, Harry decided to tell the man about his reasons for isolation.

"Molly died because of me," Harry said quietly. Snape looked completely shocked for a second or two. Maybe he even felt something, Harry mused, because not even Snape could be prickly enough to dislike Molly Weasley.

"What do you mean with that, Potter?"

"I guess you didn't see the news... After the war I started to receive death threats. I contacted Kingsley about that. We thought that it was some Death Eater who hadn't been arrested... the thing is that one of those threats was carried out."

Harry paused and took a deep breath. It was so painful to remember that, even now.

"One day I was with Molly at a Muggle supermarket - I was helping her to choose he ingredients for a Muggle recipe that she wanted to cook because Arthur wanted it..."

Closing his eyes, Harry saw red, and could almost smell the blood.

"I just saw she falling, you know... and then the blood. Someone used a cutting curse and aimed it at her neck. I didn't even think that the Muggles would see me - I just Apparated with her to St. Mungo's, but it was already too late.

"That curse was meant for me. I can't live and put people whom I love at risk like that. Losing Molly was just like losing my mother again."

For some reason, Snape seemed to be angry about something. Harry swallowed dryly; thinking that maybe he blamed Harry for Molly's death. It was ok, because Harry knew that he _was_ guilty... but it would have been good if Snape didn't blame him - not that Harry would actually believe that, but, at least, Snape had never lied to him.

Or maybe Snape was thinking back to that night in Godric's Hollow, when Lily Potter died because of Harry.

"Potter... you realize that Molly Weasley's death is not your fault-"

"That's bullshit, and you know it."

Snape strode towards Harry and, leaning his head so he could stare at Harry's eyes, he pronounced the words slowly.

"Molly Weasley's death is not your fault, Potter. You don't have to condemn yourself to live in isolation, in a house that is crumbling down!"

Snape's eyes, dark as they were, did a good job of taking Harry's attention. His mind decided in that moment to replay some of those dreams he'd been having lately. Harry's eyes went lower, and focused on Snape's thin lips. They were so close that Harry could almost feel the other man's breath.

Part of him wanted so badly to believe what Snape had just said, while the rest of his being just wanted to kiss those lips...

Closing his eyes, Harry kissed Snape, softly, just to reassure himself that Snape didn't think he was a disgrace, someone who only brought death and suffering wherever he passed.

However, Snape pulled away. Harry remained with his eyes closed, sure that if he opened them, he would see the disgust written on Snape's face.

God. What had he thought? That Snape would really reciprocate that?

"I should go now..."

And then Harry heard Snape leave his house, sure that this time there would be no coming back. At least the man hadn't taken his memories with him - but even that served as little consolation.

**~~~**

**Severus**  
Severus resisted the urge to comb Harry's hair with his fingers. The bird's nest that he'd hated so much had given place to longer locks that actually lay flat, mostly.

He felt exhausted, and was sure that his magic was drained. To confirm that, he raised his wand and cast a faint, weak _Lumos_. He heard footsteps behind the door and looked in time to see Granger entering, carrying a mug in her right hand.

"Any progress?" she asked.

Severus wanted to snort. No, definitely there had been no progress, and to make things even worse, he'd left after arguing with Harry, and he didn't know when he would be able to come back, with his magic weakened like that.

"No progress since my last visit."

"It was quick this time," Hermione said. "You stayed in for," she checked her clock, "about five hours."

Severus nodded and returned his eyes to Harry. He'd come to know the man relatively well, but only in his mind, and although that didn't make the experience any less real, it made him wonder about how much of their intimacy was derived from Harry's forced isolation.

"Did something happen?"

"I found out what, in his own world, triggered the isolation."

Hermione looked at Severus expectantly.

"I already told you about the death threats, yes?" he asked rhetorically. "He believes that one of those threats was actually carried out, but the person who tried it made a mistake, and killed Molly Weasley instead."

Hermione let out a harsh breath and tightened her grip on the mug.

"Harry, of course, thought it was better to isolate himself to protect the Weasleys, and all of his friends, I would wager." Both of them were thinking so hard about Harry's mental state that neither noticed Severus's slip. "The magic of the Horcrux is acting on his feelings of guilt - I believe that Molly's death would represent the death of another mother figure for him, because he especially blames himself for his mother's death."

A frown marred Hermione's face. "I don't understand... why would he blame himself more for that? I mean, he's known since he was eleven that his parents died protecting him."

Severus leaned against the back of the chair, wondering how much Granger knew about what he had disclosed in his memories... had Potter told his closest friends about why Severus changed sides? As far as Severus knew, only Shacklebolt knew the full contents of the memories, besides Potter, of course.

"As I understand it, the Dark Lord offered Lily Potter the choice to live. She refused that, and chose to die in the place of her son. She didn't know at the moment, obviously, but that was what allowed Potter to live."

The woman looked at him as if she'd finally put together the pieces of a complicated puzzle.

"I always found it odd that Lily's sacrifice saved Harry - I mean, it was a war, can you imagine how many mothers were willing to die in the place of their children? That didn't save anyone else. I always wondered what was different about Harry. Now it does make sense, but why would Voldemort give Lily a choice to live? She was a Muggle-born, it would make more sense if he gave that same chance to James Potter. How can anyone know that he was being honest about that?" She stopped and stared at Severus. "How do you know that Voldemort was willing to let Harry's mother live?"

"I was a Death Eater, Miss Granger, or have you forgotten that?"

Hermione shook her head. "You are lying to me... I don't think Voldemort would just tell his Death Eaters about how he gave a Muggle-born the chance to live... no, you are hiding something."

"Perhaps it is not your business, have you thought of that?"

Hermione dropped her head, and had the grace to look chagrined. "Ron gave him the dose of cleansing potion three hours ago," she said, changing the subject. "It doesn't seem to be making any effect."

"The potion was designed to counter the effects of Dark Magic, but you must understand that nobody has ever treated residual Horcrux magic, which is very dark and aggressive - especially if you take into account whose was the Horcrux that he carried. I believe it is having an effect, just very slowly. As I already told you, Potter's mental construction is showing some flaws. They are showing in the form of damage to his cottage, such as broken pipes, cracks on the walls."

"Did you make any progress on a new recipe?"

"No, I am still looking for new ingredients that can be used to enhance the desired effects."

"Don't you think that it would be easier if you told Harry about what is happening to him?" Hermione asked.

"No," Severus said firmly. "I have reasons to suspect that it could make the magic feel threatened. We don't know how much alike this residual magic is to the Horcruxes themselves. They had mechanisms to prevent their destruction - it is my understanding that you have knowledge of that at first hand. Besides, if we unfortunately do not manage to free Potter from the Dark Magic, it would be worse for him."

"We will free him," Hermione said sternly. "But I agree that perhaps Harry shouldn't be told, just in case the magic has some form of safety mechanism. When do you think you will be able to go into his mind again?"

Severus didn't know if Hermione knew about how much that practice drained his magic. Legilimency wasn't as draining, because it consisted of only seeing thoughts and memories. Harry's mind, however, filled with mental illusions, forced the Legilimens to participate in the illusions, making the invasion a strong mental and magical exercise. Fortunately, residual Dark Magic, not Harry's, fueled the mental constructions or he would have succumbed to exhaustion before they found out what was wrong with him. The woman, of course, was very concerned about her friend, and perhaps not thinking about the consequences for Severus.

"Five days, a week at the most..."

He just wondered how much time would pass for Harry.

~~~

Upon arriving at Harry's cottage, the first thing he noticed was that there was water leaking out the front door. So the pipes were still broken. That was good, that meant that the magic was being destroyed. He knocked on the door and waited some minutes. Severus was worried that the falling of Harry's mental construction could lead to some mental damage. He had to find a way to get Harry out of the house, except that the house - Riddle's magic - was preventing that.

"Potter, open this door!" he barked and used more force to knock.

He heard the sounds of coughing before the door was opened to show a rather haggard looking Harry Potter on the other side.

"Potter what have you done to yourself?"

"Snape?!" Harry's eyes were impossibly wide, as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Peering inside, Severus noticed that there were mold stains on the walls. The air must be rather humid...

And Potter was living in a place like that. At that rate, there wouldn't be anything left of the Gryffindor's mind by the time of his next visit.

Knowing that it would sound rather odd, Severus asked Potter how much time had passed since his last visit.

Potter frowned. The colour on his cheek and neck showed his chagrin, probably remembering that clumsy kiss... Severus cursed himself for reacting so badly, but didn't allow his brain to stay on that for long, not when he had more pressing matters to worry about.

"It's been four months..."

Inside Severus could see several bottles of whisky, all empty. Shit. Shit...

The residual magic knew what he - what they, Granger and Weasley included - were doing. It had felt its impending destruction and decided to take Harry's life... Severus dreaded to think about what would happen if Harry destroyed himself while inside that mental construction...

He needed to convince Harry to leave the house. Severus was fairly certain that it was all that was needed to break the construction completely, and free Harry once and for all. He'd consulted Albus' portrait on that issue, and the deceased wizard agreed on that.

"Potter... listen to me," Severus said, taking Harry's hand in his. The Gryffindor firmly stood inside the house, his feet even going a few steps back, while Severus stood, also firmly, outside. He didn't think it would be safe for him to enter that house, not again. "You have to leave this house."

"No."

"You can fix it later, Potter... can't you understand, can't you see that something isn't right? You are killing yourself... living a in a place like this..."

"Snape, I won't leave," Harry said, his voice hard and cold. He tried to disentangle his hand from Severus's, who just tightened his grip.

Severus stopped for moments and thought about reasons why Harry would agree to come with him... none of that would be enough for the dark magic...

Except revenge...

Riddle's magic would relish the feeling of hurting someone, and Harry, hurt and lonely as he was, would, perhaps, find consolation in avenging Molly's death... Harry Potter wasn't, for himself, the kind of person to seek revenge, but he'd spent years with a foreign presence half controlling his actions...

Maybe it would be enough.

"I looked into Molly Weasley's death," Severus said, still holding Harry's hand. "And I discovered that, soon after you left, the Aurors found who was responsible for it."

That got Harry's attention. Severus mentally cheered. He was so close...

"It was Draco Malfoy, he confessed under Veritaserum."

"I should have known that the ferret was an evil little shit," Harry said as his face contorted with rage. "I hope he got what he deserves in Azkaban..."

Severus shook his head. "He got away, Harry... he bought his way out of Azkaban and only had to pay a compensation for his crimes..."

"That can't be true!" Harry said and took some steps toward the door.

"You know how corrupt the Ministry is, Potter. Kingsley might be the Minister, but that does not mean that everything is perfect."

Harry looked really indecisive about what to do. Severus could see that part of him wanted to leave the house and probably murder Draco Malfoy, even as part of him also wanted to stay. Severus concluded that those feelings were also shared by the residual magic.

"You can stay at my home," Severus offered. "Draco trusts me..."

Harry was almost at the door now. He didn't look like the attractive young man he'd been before Riddle's magic had taken over, but Severus found himself drawn to him anyway. Maybe he should have let things go further during his last visit, maybe it would have made it easier to convince Harry to leave the house now...

"Will you help me?" Harry asked.

"Not matter what. I've always helped you," I've always saved you, he added mentally. "I won't stop now."

Harry nodded and closed his eyes for a moment. Severus used the opportunity to grab Harry's waist and pull him out of the wretched house.

The house crumbled just as his whole body was out. Severus embraced him and used his cloak to protect them both from the dust that formed from the ruins.

Everything would be okay. Eventually.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment here or at [Livejournal](http://snape-potter.livejournal.com/3618302.html), [Insanejournal](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snape_potter/1569702.html), or [Dreamwidth](http://snape-potter.dreamwidth.org/872519.html).


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